Birth of the HalfBlood
by General Alia
Summary: What began as a complete accident leads up to bliss for a fighting duo.... This one's for you, Stike To Incinerate! SECOND CHAPTER ADDED. Still fluffy, but a little more serious than the first chapter.
1. Chapter 1

This was written in just about four hours for Strike To Incinerate. You are a great storyteller, a great roleplayer, and most important, a great friend.

This one's for you, pal. Don't kill me.

GA

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As if he hadn't been wary while Kasumi was in the bathroom for ten minutes straight, the big smile she came out with made every instinct in him cringe in horror.

Iori was settled on his couch, the television showing a news anchor whining about the prices of energy. The flame fighter was nursing a beer, even though he normally didn't drink during the day. Something told him that a bit of a buzz would be necessary to get through the next twelve hours with his sanity...or whatever remained of it.

Kasumi, still beaming, curled up next to him. She set her head on his shoulder and hugged his arm like a teddy bear. The thought amused Iori, and his base instincts relaxed a bit.

Then she reached over, plucked the beer can from his hand, and set it aside. "No more of that," she murmured sleepily, cuddling closer to his body.

Iori frowned, but said nothing. It was almost empty anyway. He turned to the TV, trying to ignore the young fighter wrapped around his arm. Kind of like a boa constrictor.

A small hand suddenly dove into his shirt pocket, snatched up the packet of cigarettes within, and threw it somewhere. Kasumi nuzzled her face against his shoulder.

"No more of those either," she muttered, smiling.

Enough was enough. Iori violently knocked her off. He shut off the television and glared knives into her as she lay prone on the floor.

"I let you live here when you absolutely need to," he snapped, "I expect that you keep to yourself."

Kasumi's sated demeanor evaporated in the wake of a tidal wave of fury.

"Keep to myself, eh? I'll remember that next time you want some, Yagami!"

"You have no spine; I'll take you when I want to, where I want to, and you won't do a thing to stop me, because you love it and refuse to let me go."

Kasumi blushed at his innuendo, but did not back down. "You're talking about rape, Yagami, and that's not what I want between us."

"Then what do you want? To be my bride? You're not nearly pretty enough."

Kasumi sliced at the air with her hand, and a bluish white arc of energy flew at Iori. He barely avoided it, then rose and forcefully took her hand. He dragged her on the floor towards the exit, uncaring about any pain she might be in.

The female fighter said, "I wouldn't be your bride if you were the last man on earth!"

"Enough!" Iori roared, hand on the doorknob, "I have had enough of you! Leave here, and never come back!" Perhaps in a moment of pity, he paused before throwing her out. "Have anything else you'd like to say?"

To his surprise, Kasumi burst into tears. She lay a hand on her belly, and said:

"Iori, I'm pregnant."

The flame fighter recoiled, wounded worse than any energy blast could inflict. He let go of Kasumi's hand; the female fighter immediately sat up and wept into her hands. In a daze, Iori staggered back to the couch and nearly fell upon it. He ran a hand into his vibrant red hair, and was silent.

After a few moments, he said, "Are you sure?"

Kasumi slowly started to compose herself. Between forceful sobs, she said, "Y-yes...missed last two months... Bathroom...pregnancy test...positive."

Iori was quiet again, then got up on unsteady legs and went into the kitchen. He came back with a roll of paper towels. He gave it to Kasumi, and quietly said, "I have to think about this." Even quieter: "I'm sorry."

He walked away to his bedroom, slammed the door behind him, and locked it. Kasumi wiped her tears away and held a hand to her belly, as if trying to feel the tiny blob of cells inside her that would one day be a human being.

Iori stayed in his room for over an hour.

When he came out, he was still dazed, but had his thoughts in order. It was apparent that he had been crying, but not a lot. It was also apparent that he had hit himself in order to stop.

Kasumi was perched on Iori's couch, reading a magazine for guitarists. She barely understood what it was talking about, but it got her mind off their fight...and her confession. She kept reading as Iori sat next to her, and only put it aside when he took her arm, much more gently than before. Almost apologetically.

"Kasumi," he said quietly, "First of all, I want this to be confirmed beyond a doubt. If you are really...with child, then I want to know it for sure.

"Secondly...do you want to bear this child? I understand if you do not."

Her eyes were hard. "I'm keeping this child."

Iori continued, "Do you realize what that entails? If you are indeed two months pregnant, there are seven more months of trials ahead of you. As I understand it, you'll be in pain, grow fatigued, and lose the body you have now for something fat and weak. You'll have to give up fighting, Kasumi."

She chuckled weakly. "You have a strange understanding, Yagami."

"What will your friends say? They already don't like you sleeping with me. Don't tell me they have not warned you this will happened."

"You know, they seem to be changing their minds... King once told me that she thought you did have some kind of good looks."

"Never mind your friends, what about your parents? Your mother will disown you, Kasumi."

The female fighter took Iori's hands in hers. His hands were larger than hers, and one bore an N-shaped scar from a brush with an attack dog. Still, she knew his hands had a surgeon's precision, in and out of battle.

"After everything we've been through," she said, "I was kinda hoping that you would take me in."

Iori smiled. "What do you think this is?" he said, "You practically live in my house. We share the same bed. Hell, your friends call here when you don't answer your phone."

"No, not like that. I mean...into your family."

His smile faded. "I have no family, and I'm not marrying you, but I am bound to my clan's traditions. If this child is real, and you decide to keep it, I am bound to stay by your side, no matter what."

Kasumi squeezed his hands. "Child-rearing is important to your people, huh?"

"We do what we must. This brings up another point. If this child is the heir of the Yagami race, it'll kill you. It will drain you of everything you are. When you give birth to the heir, you'll be little more than a shriveled mummy. The exertion of labor will kill you. Since I carry the heir genes, there's a chance that this child will be the next leader of the Yagami. This child could be your death sentence, Kasumi. Are you really willing to bear the cause of your demise?"

Kasumi glared. "First of all, don't patronize me. I know about the Yagami curse. Secondly, you're the only man who has ever gone to the lengths you have to make me happy. I feel like I owe you something for that."

"What lengths? Most of the time...I hurt you."

"But it all works out in the end! Iori, I'm keeping this child, no matter what my friends say, or my parents say, or what you say."

The flame fighter was silent for a moment, then sighed and squeezed her hands back. "Nothing I say at all?"

"No. Come Hell or high water, this baby is mine." She smiled. "Ours."

Iori groaned, letting go of Kasumi and rubbing his forehead. "I never imagined I would be a father...let alone impregnate a fellow KOF fighter."

Kasumi clung to him again, grinning. "Congratulations, Dad."

-

The next week, Kasumi was officially declared two months pregnant by a doctor.

The week after that, she demanded that Iori keep watermelon, fried chicken, raw octopus, and caramel truffles on hand at all times in case of massive food cravings.

-

Four months later, and Kasumi was beginning to show. The bump was hard to see under her baggy clothing, but both mother and father knew it was there. The baby was truly telling the world of its presence.

One night, after making love, the parents-to-be continued to stay awake in bed. Kasumi was reading a paperback, while Iori was studying a book on Italian, which would be his seventh language. The female fighter was content with just sitting next to Iori, who had seemingly taken fatherhood in stride, even if he had to leave the house to smoke now.

She suddenly gasped, and the book went flying as she grasped her belly bulge. Iori was alert in an instant, dark eyes tense. Kasumi noticed he was on the verge of panic, so she smiled reassuringly.

"She's kicking," Kasumi said.

Iori relaxed with a sigh, but still gave her a stony stare. "Who said it's a girl?"

"I did. Ooh, this is the first time she's done this!"

"We still don't know if it's a girl." The flame fighter folded his arms and tried to read again, but he found Kasumi's nude body and the small swell of the baby within her difficult to ignore. He sighed again, threw the book away, and placed his scarred hand over the small swell of the baby.

There was an answering tap from within. Very light, but it was there.

Iori smiled and lay his head gently on Kasumi's belly. The kicks were easier to feel now. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but he thought he heard a quick heartbeat as well. He kissed Kasumi's bellybutton – secretly reveling in her giggle – and simply listened to the child inside. When Kasumi began softly pet his hair, he knew he could have died there, and died happily.

-

Three months passed. Time for the baby shower.

Kasumi was as large as a house, and due in several weeks. She was slightly disappointed when an ultrasound had confirmed that the baby was not a girl, but a little boy, but she was glad the child was healthy.

Most of her friends had flown to Japan just for this baby shower, and the ones who could not make it sent gifts anyway. Iori didn't make friends, but he was happy to see the mother of his child surrounded by her closest companions. That, and it seemed that the child in question was not the next Yagami heir. Not only would that dethrone Iori, but also kill Kasumi, and when he thought about her being in any harm, chills turned his spine into Arctic ice.

In the end, the parents-to-be had enough equipment to deal with an army of babies instead of just one. But this baby was the offspring of two people whose strengths were borderline superhuman. What would it be able to do?

-

Due date. Kasumi had been in labor for six hours. It began at three in the morning. She had clawed at Iori until he was just awake enough to drive to the hospital.

Iori himself had been forced out of the delivery room by Kasumi's mother, Shizuka. Shizuka had not disowned Kasumi. Blood ran thicker.

Still not entirely awake, Iori was on his second cigarette and staring at the door to the hallway to the delivery room. He wanted to be by Kasumi's side...but some instinct kept him away. Plus, Shizuka would only screech at him, calling him a monster or a devil, and that would upset Kasumi and cause the whole process to become more and more complex—

He tried not to think about it.

"Hey there. Redhead."

Iori looked up to spot an older man with long black hair and a mustache. While he was dressed casually, he wore a white headband with a black spot on it. He seemed nervous.

"Who are you?" the flame fighter asked.

"I'm Ryuhaku Todoh," the man said, "I'm Kasumi's father."

"She's told me about you. I assume you're here because..."

"Yeah, because." Todoh sat beside Iori. "So...you're the father of my grandson?"

"Yes, I am."

"Geez," Todoh chuckled, "I can't imagine what the pup is going to look like. Whoa, whoa, whoa, don't give me that look, you could kill someone with that look. All I'm saying is that between what I've taught Kasumi and what you can do...that child is going to be one powerful little fella."

Iori took a drag on his cigarette and exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. "He's not the heir. That's fine by me."

"Not the heir?"

A third man had entered the room. Iori dropped his cigarette in shock.

The third man was wearing a traditional yukata, and he seemed to be slightly older than Todoh. His face was lined with wrinkles from age and the world's worries, and he had a black beard that made him look like a pirate.

Iori's father, Kurohige Yagami.

Iori got up from his seat. "Father, what are you doing here?"

Kurohige stared at his son. "I am here to attend the birth of my grandson, what else? You always were slow on the uptake, Iori."

The younger Yagami snarled, but did not move. "I will not fight you here."

"No, we will not fight, not in a place of new life. That would be a very bad omen. But I feel more bad omens, Iori. You, the heir, not producing another? Who will be the next to carry the flames of the Yagami?"

"Kasumi will not be a victim of the curse."

"Then find another woman. I don't care for this little urchin you've picked."

"Urchin!?" Todoh cried, "How dare you call my daughter an urchin!"

Kurohige grinned maliciously. "Ah, it seems I have an in-law now."

"No way! I don't want to be related to a jerk like you!"

"You have no idea," Iori remarked dryly.

"A woman outside of the bloodline," Kurohige said, turning to Todoh, "Who knows what will happen to her now? It is rare for a Yagami man to impregnate a commoner. So rare, in fact, that I believe this may be the first time a half-blooded child is born."

"Commoner!?" Todoh was outraged now. "You don't look so high and mighty yourself! You may wear traditional garb, but can you fight on the streets, without rules to protect you? I'm not afraid of you, show me what you can do!"

"I refuse to fight in a place of new life."

"Excuses, excuses! I don't want to upset my daughter, but if you keep it up, so help me, you won't live to hear your grandson cry."

Too late.

A thin, warbling cry came to the waiting room. It was short and not in pain. Just confused and scared of the strange new world it had entered.

Iori was a father.

The flame fighter sat heavily in a chair, shocked into a state of utter blankness. The baby's first cry echoed in his head, and to him it sounded as sweet and as pure as the song of an angel.

Todoh glanced between Iori, Kurohige, and the door, and opted for the door. He bounded towards the delivery room, hope and anxiety written all over his face. Kurohige started to follow him, and that snapped Iori out of his shock.

The younger Yagami rose once more and blocked the door. He glared at his father, his hands starting to burn with the purple flame. It felt good to blaze. Every instinct he possessed was awakened by his son's cry, and now every instinct was intent on keeping Kurohige away from the baby.

Perhaps the elder Yagami sensed it, because he halted in his tracks. He looked at Iori pitifully, and said, "You can't keep the child away from me forever. I'll see him eventually."

"Monster," Iori hissed, hands blazing.

Kurohige sighed sadly. "Iori...is it always going to be this way between us?"

"MONSTER!" Iori roared, and this time the flames traveled up his arms to his shoulders before blossoming out like a pair of seraphic wings, blasting heat, and it felt good, so very good to be releasing all this pent-up energy.

Kurohige was unmoved. He stayed put until Iori realized that all this power could signal a Blood Riot, and he slowly petered out until his fires were gone.

"I'll see him eventually," Kurohige repeated, then turned and walked away.

Iori waited until he was gone before he spun around and dashed madly to the delivery room. He skidded straight through the double doors, stopping bare inches away from Kasumi's bedside, where Todoh and Shizuka were already hovering.

And in the bed itself was Kasumi. Her hair was spread out like a dark halo, and her body was covered in sweat. She was breathing harshly, but only out of six hours of exertion. She was not a shriveled mummy. In fact, she looked beautiful.

In her arms was a little bundle. All that was visible of the baby was his face, which was scrunched up tightly against the bright light. He was sleeping, just as exhausted as his mother was.

Kasumi nodded to her parents, and they let Iori close to her. He pulled up a chair and sat by her side, gently petting her sweaty hair and her face.

"Hello, Kasumi," he said quietly.

"Hello, Iori," she replied, smiling, "You were right. It's a boy."

He chuckled and leaned in to kiss her nose lightly. "He's...an angel."

"He looks like you. He has your chin, your nose...but he has my eyes."

"That can be changed."

Kasumi giggled tiredly. "I feel like crap."

"You look like crap."

"Thanks. Do you want to hold him?"

The flame fighter cringed nervously. "I don't want to hurt him."

"You'll be fine. Just like we learned, remember?" Kasumi yawned. "Hold his head steady. Don't drop him. Keep it simple, stupid."

Iori grinned anxiously and took the baby from Kasumi. He stirred a little as he was shifted, but quickly went back to sleep. Iori was surprised to find that holding his son was easier than he had expected...some paternal instinct was waking up and guiding him like a beacon in a fog.

"He needs a name."

"No duh, genius," Kasumi remarked. Her eyes were drooping, and soon she would be asleep. "I've...thought of some... I like the name...Shohei."

"Shohei? That means—"

"Of Many Equals," Todoh finished, leaning over Iori to get a closer look at the newly christened baby. "I like that name."

"So do I. All right, pup, your name is Shohei. Shohei Todoh-Yagami...the first half-blood. What will you become? Will you control flame as I do, or manipulate energy like your mother? Will you do both? You are a child of mystery, but I would not have it any other way...my son."

When Iori had finished with his monologue, he looked to Kasumi. She had fallen asleep. Todoh and Shizuka were looking at him with genuine love, as if he was a member of their family.

When the flame fighter began to weep for love for this new life that had begun entirely by accident, he knew that he had found peace...forever.

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Another chapter? A sequel? Comments are the only way you, Reader, can let me know how you feel.


	2. Chapter 2

"Welcome to your new home, Shohei."

Iori's house was impressive. When the lead singer of the flame fighter's band perished in a plane crash, he left his considerable estate to Iori for him to do whatever he pleased. Beachfront property in Okinawa, Japan, built in a Western style, the house itself was three stories tall, white as snow, and had a private beach and delightfully large backyard.

Shohei had his own room, but both parents felt safer if the newborn stayed in their room for now. The baby's property was a simple yet sturdy bassinet that sat by their bedside. It was just the right height for either parent to look into from the bed. Now nestled in white clothes and blankets, little sleeping Shohei seemed even more angelic than normal.

Kasumi Todoh sat on the edge of their bed and gazed into the bassinet at the sleeping baby. Iori Yagami was beside her and also watching the child with fascination. While Kasumi was daydreaming about all the possibilities her new son had in store for him, Iori was more concerned with trying to understand how the child could sleep so much after doing nothing for nine months.

The female fighter sighed and idly twirled the little white doves attached to Shohei's mobile. She leaned against Iori and said, "Think we'll be good parents?"

Iori scoffed. "We'll be lucky the kid isn't in the loony bin by the time he's two."

"If he lives to two."

"What makes you say that? We'll drive him mad, not dead."

Kasumi looked over her shoulder at her mate. "You're not upset?"

"About what?"

"That Shohei's not the Yagami heir?"

Iori smirked spitefully, but despite that, Kasumi was reassured. "No, I'm not upset," he said, "I don't think I'm ready to give up leadership of my people just yet."

"What if Shohei doesn't carry a flame?"

The smirk turned into a scowl. Kasumi was unmoved. "Shohei will have a flame," Iori said, "All Yagami do, even if they are not the heir. What separates the heir from the rest of the population is the red hair, and a greater efficiency at producing flames. Shohei will have a flame, but since he is not the heir, he will not produce anything spectacular. Maybe he can do no better than making his hands hot to the touch, since he is half-blooded. We won't know until Shohei conjures his first fire, and that won't happen for a few years."

"You know a lot about your people."

"I'm expected to."

That was the end of that subject. Both parents watched Shohei inhale and exhale slowly, and both parents wondered if he was dreaming.

-

"If that thing doesn't shut up this minute, it's going out the window."

Three months seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Shohei, while still a baby, was proving to his parents that he was growing and evolving more and more each day. His physical similarities to his father were growing more obvious, but he had his mother's dark hair and her intelligent, playful eyes.

Those gorgeous eyes were now staring at Iori, who was trying to read a book on Hindi, his ninth language. They seemed to gauge Iori's facial expression, darted to the bright yellow book for a moment, then went back to the shiny red rattle in his hand. He shook it again, and it rattled noisily.

_Shika, shika, shika_.

Iori snarled and plucked the rattle from his son's hand. Shohei seemed confused for a second, then his face squeezed up and he started to cry. Iori, now a veteran of tantrums, could've cared less. He threw the rattle behind him, where it struck a closed window with a bang and fell to the ground.

Shohei started at the noise and began to cry louder. Iori just turned back to his book and tried to ignore his howling offspring.

Kasumi, who had been making lunch for the two men in her life, came into the room. "What's going on?" She went over to Shohei, picked him up into her arms, and started to rock him. Now with a new source of amusement, Shohei quieted down and stared at his mother's face intently.

"Oh, pup," Kasumi said soothingly, "Did something go boom? Did something scare my little dumpling?"

Iori rolled his eyes at his book.

"Where's your rattle, pup?"

Iori quietly chuckled, glad that Shohei couldn't accuse him of anything.

"_Wi-ya_!"

But Shohei could babble like a pro. Sometimes it sounded like he was imitating words. While this normally made Iori proud of his rather bright son, this time it sounded close enough to _window_ that Kasumi would catch on.

She did. Still rocking Shohei, she went to the window and picked up the rattle on the floor. As soon as it was back in Shohei's hands, it was rattling.

_Shika, shika, shika_.

"How'd it get over there, pup? You're not strong enough to throw that far. And is that a crack on the window? Is it, pup? Did you crack Mommy's window?"

"Who said it was your window?" Iori snapped, looking up from his book.

"I did. Daddy, would you mind explaining to Mommy why Shohei's rattle broke one of my windows?"

Shohei giggled, and if he wasn't Iori's own son, the flame fighter would've killed him. Sighing, Iori said, "That stupid rattle is driving me insane. It's constantly shaking. Why hasn't Shohei's hand fallen off yet?"

Kasumi smiled, and Iori wanted to kill her as well. "Relax, man. It's a phase. He'll eventually get rid of the rattle for a new toy."

"Yeah, well, make it one that doesn't make noise."

"_Mi nos_!" Shohei agreed enthusiastically, all while shaking the rattle.

_Shika, shika, shika_.

-

Truth be told, Iori was mostly a good father. While he hadn't changed a single diaper in Shohei's six months of life, he had resigned himself to the life domestic, at least until he was sure his son had enough memories of him that if Iori were to die on the battlefield, Shohei would have someone to remember. He let Kasumi do the parenting while he dealt with the more mundane chores that came with a family.

But there were times when Kasumi felt afraid to leave Shohei with Iori. While the baby was born of Iori's chromosomes as well as hers – hell, Shohei was the spitting image of Iori – sometimes a maternal instinct screamed at her to keep Shohei safe in her arms instead of giving him to Iori to hold for a moment.

She knew in her heart that Iori would perish before harming his own son, but her maternal intuition gave a convincing argument.

Evening. Iori was preparing Shohei for bed. Kasumi was semi-dozing in front of the TV. Shohei had been cranky all day, and her nerves were worn down to dust. She was glad that her mate was shouldering some of the work this time.

There was a sudden wail, which was cut off abruptly.

Kasumi, exhausted, barely registered it. She was about to fall asleep when a much more sinister sound reached her ears.

A growl, similar to a wolf's. They had no pets, the nearest neighbors were miles away, and this was not wolf territory, even though when the moon was full once a month Iori sometimes took her outside on the beach and jokingly howled at the Earth's satellite...

Full moon.

Suddenly Kasumi was wide awake and in a state of panic. Her maternal instinct was not just screaming, it was _roaring_, _howling_, not only warning her that her son was in danger, but repeating the warnings it had issued her so many times before when Iori willingly volunteered to interact with Shohei.

She got up and raced to Shohei's room, and when she got there, she was terrified into dead silence. Iori was holding Shohei by his neck. The infant's head flopped backwards like a rag doll's, and his face was stark pale. He wasn't breathing.

Shohei was dead.

"He was crying," Iori muttered. He was hunched over the dead baby and his entire body was quaking. Kasumi realized that there was blood on the carpet – whether it was Iori's or Shohei's was unknown. "He was crying _so loud_."

He looked up at Kasumi, and she screamed. Iori's eyes were filled with crimson. No pupils, no iris – just a horrible idiot red that displayed nothing but murder and hatred.

Iori grinned, and he had fangs. "I made him stop, Kasumi..."

Iori was no longer the man Kasumi had fallen in love with. He was long gone.

What stood before her clutching her dead son was a demon.

Kasumi screamed again, and Iori threw Shohei aside as if he was a piece of trash. The little body crumpled like a paper bag, and Kasumi's mind crumpled with it, completely falling apart into chaos. She sat down hard, eyes blank but still seeing.

Iori approached her. His nails, once clipped to protect Shohei from cuts, were now three inches long and as sharp as razors. He wrapped a hand around her throat, and his flesh was freezing cold.

"Don't you cry, baby," Iori hissed, "Don't you cry too."

And then his fingernails drove into her windpipe, shredding through tissue and bone like so much paper, severing veins and arteries and his cold, cold hands were freezing her just like Hell, Hell wasn't hot Hell was cold, cold as ice, cold as Iori's hand around her throat and Iori was Hell Iori was Hell on Earth—

-

Kasumi woke up fighting back a scream. She shot up straight and clamped a hand over her mouth, holding back the howl of agony she wanted so badly to produce. She would certainly wake up Shohei and Iori—

Was gone. The two shared the same bed, but Iori was not in it with her.

The baby was crying. Kasumi jolted to her feet, halfway believing that her dream had somehow come to life, when Shohei began to quiet. Nothing abrupt. He was shutting himself down peacefully. Soon he was silent enough for Kasumi to hear another voice over the baby's.

Iori's voice. His own voice. Not the voice of the monster within him.

Kasumi was still frightened by her nightmare, so she quickly pulled on a robe over her nude body and cautiously approached Shohei's room. As she got closer, she realized two things that set her mind at ease.

One: there was a rhythmic creaking noise that had to be Shohei's crib rocking.

Two: Iori was singing.

She quietly stood at Shohei's open door and watched Iori lean over Shohei's crib, gently rocking it with his foot in time with the old lullaby that both parents had heard when they themselves were babies.

"_Mori no fukuro ga iimashita:_

_Watashi wa mori no mihari yaku._

_Kowai okami, kitsune nado,_

_Kosasenai kara ne neshina._"

When Iori was sure Shohei was fast asleep, he reached into the crib and lightly stroked the baby's fuzzy dark hair. Love was brimming in his eyes, accented by the light of the full moon outside.

Kasumi carefully went to Iori's side and clung to his arm. The flame fighter looked at her with the same amount of pure adoration as he had with Shohei.

"He was crying," Iori said, "I made him stop, Kasumi."

Her dream came back to her at full force and she immediately let go of him, backing off and taking up her fighting stance. If Iori was to try to hurt Shohei, he would have to go through her first.

Iori stared at her in confusion. He held up his hands in peace. "Kasumi, what the hell are you doing?"

It took a moment for his words to reach her brain. When they did, she relaxed and clung to her mate again, sighing sadly. Iori wrapped his arms around her gently, as if she was made of fragile glass, and she quietly explained her nightmare to him.

"Kasumi," Iori said, "I would kill myself before harming Shohei. I swear."

The honesty in his eyes was disarming. Kasumi checked on her son one last time before letting Iori lead her back to bed.

-

When Shohei was a year old, his personality shone like a beacon, even if it wasn't exactly what either parent had in mind.

Shohei was a pessimist, even at such a young age. When playtime was interrupted and a parent had to attend to something else for a moment, Shohei took the departure as if playtime had ended for good. He was very intelligent, and seemed to understand the concept of halves. For this reason, he rarely continued to eat when he realized his food was half-done. Even at twelve months old, he was a living example of the half-empty cup perspective.

Iori and Kasumi loved him anyway. Shohei had a small yet growing vocabulary, and always made himself clear when he wanted something. While Kasumi was still the main caregiver, Iori was Shohei's teacher, demonstrating how things were done. But since he was himself, Iori started to pass down his own bad habits, which always upset his mate.

"Iori, why is Shohei giving me the finger?"

A cackle. "That's my boy!"

-

At sixteen months, Shohei's life changed dramatically...and unwillingly.

Close to midnight, Iori woke up to the sound of a door opening. Kasumi was next to him, sleeping soundly. Shohei was too little to escape his crib, and even if he did, he was too short to open any doors in his house.

So someone was intruding.

Iori got out of bed and stealthily crept towards his son's room, clad in nothing but a pair of pajama bottoms. He carefully looked into Shohei's room, and his blood ran cold.

Kurohige was hovering over his son's crib, staring inside intently. The child within had a bluish purple orb sitting on his chest. As Iori watched in horror, the orb sank into Shohei's chest. The child twitched, but kept sleeping.

He had seen enough. He rushed into the room with a roar, caught his father off-guard, grabbed a fistful of Kurohige's yukata, and slammed him against the wall, holding him so roughly that Kurohige's feet didn't touch the ground.

Kurohige regarded his son wearily. "Hello again, Iori."

Iori's hands burst into flame. "You demon, what did you do to my son!?"

"Please, Iori, I only helped my grandchild get an advantage in life."

"You monster, you gave him a magatama!"

"I gave him _my_ magatama!"

Iori drove him against the wall harder. "_You cursed my son_! With that magatama inside him, he's doomed to the fate that's already claimed so many of our people!"

To his outrage, Kurohige smiled. "He's not cursed. He's now superior to the rest of humankind. Soon he'll have his flame, and if you've got any amount of wisdom, Iori, you'll send him to me for training."

"To what end? So he'll continue the feud that has torn our clan apart?"

"Of course! You know, Iori, you disappointed me. I trained you to annihilate the Kusanagi, and what happened? You _befriended_ one! Now you've created an imperfect child, made even more so since he's not the heir! You should be thanking me for at least including him in our traditions!"

Iori roared in outrage and wrapped a burning hand around Kurohige's throat. He could feel the flesh under his hand sizzling, and it gave him such a perverse pleasure. He had gone without fighting for over two years, and to see his father in pain was an amazing feeling.

"Dada?"

Shohei was awake. He had pulled himself up onto his feet and was watching Iori and Kurohige curiously.

Iori cursed and took his hand off of Kurohige's throat. A nasty black burn in the shape of his palm surrounded his neck. Iori didn't want his son to see him so graphically hurting someone...at least until he was older.

"_Kasumi_!" Iori cried, "Get in here, _now_!"

Kurohige smiled despite the pain he was in. "Calling in your princess to save the day?" His voice was raspy, but still strong. "You've been whipped, Iori. I did not raise my son to be a submissive little twerp!"

"_Kasumi_! _Now_!"

"Listen to me, Iori," Kurohige hissed, "You can feel it in you. The urge to kill me. Go ahead, I don't mind. You're only fulfilling the curse's desires. I don't have long for this world, so go on, kill me. Better yet, do it in front of your son. Make him aware of his destiny, Iori!"

"KASUMI!"

Finally, Iori's mate ran in. She gasped in horror, then flew to Shohei's crib.

"Get him out of here!" Iori cried.

Kasumi was already scooping Shohei into her arms. With a trusting look in her eyes, she fled into the depths of the house.

Iori turned back to Kurohige and said, "I won't kill you. You don't deserve to die by my hand. You ought to die like the dumb animal you are: cold, pathetic, and alone." He took Kurohige off the wall and set him down in the middle of the room before backing off defensively. "Get out of my home. Now."

Kurohige snarled. "Iori, why do you continue to believe in dreams? You know that will never happen to me. I will die warm, surrounded by my friends, and gracefully. In the depths of your heart, you know that will happen...and that _you_ will make it happen."

Iori was impassive. "Get out."

Kurohige lifted his arms. A plume of fire rose from the ground and engulfed him. When it vanished, the only sign to his presence was a patch of scorched carpet.

Iori then turned and began to scour the house for his family. He found them in the laundry. Kasumi was hiding behind the dryer, waiting to ambush any intruders. She had hid Shohei in a pile of clean clothes. As soon as Iori stepped into the room, she knew that the threat had been taken care of.

"What did your father want?" Kasumi asked.

Iori shook his head. "Didn't want anything. But he gave our son a present."

Kasumi's eyes narrowed as she dug Shohei out of a hamper. "If he harmed my baby, so help me, I'll kill him."

Iori carefully scooped Shohei into his arms. The child looked up at him curiously. "Only in the long run," he said. He explained the incident to Kasumi.

"Oh, god, Iori... Can we get it out of him?"

"Yes, I believe so."

Iori gently set Shohei down on top of the washing machine. The child squirmed and tried to sit up, but Iori kept him lying down as he unbuttoned Shohei's pajamas, baring his chest, soft with baby fat. Shohei thrashed harder as Iori focused his power into his hand, which he placed on Shohei's chest. He made slow grasping gestures, eyes shut in concentration. This was a technique he hadn't fully mastered.

It took a few tries, but soon the magatama came out. As soon as it did, Shohei stopped struggling. Kasumi took him into her arms as Iori examined the magatama. It was small, but intensely powerful, surging with light and color.

"Is that it?" Kasumi asked, "Is Shohei free from the curse?"

"That's it," Iori replied, "He'll be fine."

Kasumi sighed with relief and kissed her mate. Shohei had dozed off in her arms. She smiled at him and whispered, "I'll put him back to bed." She left the laundry room, her relief evident in her gait.

Iori watched her go, then looked back to his father's magatama. Now that it was in his possession, he was free to do whatever he wanted to it. He decided to keep it for now. Better to know where it was.

A depression came over him. His father hadn't always been a terrible person. He had been one of Iori's few friends as a child, until one incident forced them to part. They had never reconciled about that incident...but that had been many years ago. Why Kurohige had grown malicious and rotten was a mystery that Iori found he didn't want to think about.

He put Kurohige's magatama in a secret safe, then joined his mate in bed, but did not sleep for several hours.

-

Life continued as normally as it could for the next two years. Iori rejoined the fighting circuit and his band, but refused to travel for either reason. As much as he hated to admit it, he had grown too used to the domestic life to wander the world again. Perhaps when Shohei was older he would take his son out to see the world and the walks of life that inhabited it.

Three months after Shohei's third birthday, the family received unexpected news.


End file.
